Chapter 30
At the sound of crunching gravel, Jason Woods popped his head over the seat of the dirt bike where he’d just finished hosing it off and wiping it down. Beneath the motorcycle, mounds of gooey red clay poked above the water puddles like miniature islands.
Lester and Billy Ray stepped out of the pickup. Jason grinned and said, “My, my, a pair of brown-shirts, come to arrest an innocent man.”
Billy Ray winced at the choice of words.
“What am I accused of this time, gentlemen?”
The Sheriff took a wide stance, hands on hips, facing the young man. It was immediately obvious to Jason Woods that this was not a social call.
“What’s up, Okie?” Jason asked, nodding to Billy Ray but keeping his eyes on the Sheriff.
“Sheriff wants to ask you a couple questions is all.”
“Do I need a lawyer?”
Lester answered, his voice hard, “Not unless you’re about to confess to a crime. Is that the case?”
“Quit jacking around, Jason,” Billy Ray cautioned. “This is serious.”
“A no-shitter?” Woods asked, his eyes going wide with feigned innocence.
“Do not mess with me son, I am not in the mood,” Lester said.
“Okay, okay, but if we’re gonna talk, can I go inside and get a beer first? I’ve been cleaning up this nasty bike for an hour. I’m thirsty and my tired is hangin’ out.”
“All right, but you go with him, Deputy.”
The mini-fridge inside the sleeping room had space for a 12-pack, barely. Other than the beer and a brick of cheese, the shelves were bare. Jason popped the tab on a Miller and whispered, “What the hell B.R.? Why’s the Sheriff acting like such a hard ass all of a sudden? You want a beer?”
“No, hell no, I’m on duty you dumbass.” Billy Ray glanced through the screen door. The Sheriff was staring at the house, arms folded across his chest, the impatience obvious. “We better get back out there. I’ll fill you in later. If you would have answered your phone…”
“Battery threw craps. I was gonna order a new one today.”
“Uh huh. Why are you home on a Monday anyway?”
“Boss changed our hours. Easier to make deliveries and talk to our customers on Saturdays he said. So now it’s Sunday and Monday for my off days. Kind of sucks. I always liked going out on Friday nights, ballgame and a bar, you know.”
“I do. C’mon, before the Sheriff has a hissy fit.”
“You girls having a love fest?” Lester yelled at the door. “Don’t make me come in there.”
Jason led the way to the yard with Billy Ray close behind.
The Sheriff took off his hat, wiped his brow, and checked the sky. Clear and hot. Hotter than normal for late September but not uncommon in this end of the state. The forecast was for more of the same, at least until the end of the week. Not a mention of rain.
“You want a beer, Sheriff?” Jason asked, hoping to calm the lawman.
“No, I don’t want a goddamn beer. I want to ask you some questions young man. You’ve been hard to find recently.”
Jason shrugged and took a pull off the Miller.
“May I assume that, at some time in your life, you’ve been to the Pirate’s Den, that bar out on Highway 56?”
“Sure, I’ve been there. Last time was, oh let’s see, Thursday I think it was. Me and one of the other guys that work for Arnold Propane checked it out. Sometimes the place is full of biker dudes. Those boys sure know how to party.”
“Were you and your co-worker riding motorcycles that night?”
“Well, sort of. My Harley-Davidson, the one you see there in the back of the garage, has a blown piston. Hadn’t had the money to fix it. I got the dirt bike there, but it’s not exactly street legal.”
“Go on.”
“Kind of hate to admit it, but I was riding bitch on the back of my buddy’s bike.”
“Riding bitch?” Lester asked.
Billy Ray said, “Riding bitch means to ride two to a seat, like where the girlfriend or wife would be.”
“I see. Very colorful, Mr. Woods. Now, tell me about that night. Who was there and what did you see?”
Jason tipped the can before answering and took a hard swig, his Adam’s apple bobbing with each swallow. A trickle of beer ran out the corner of his mouth. Wiping it with the back of his hand, he said, “There weren’t any bikers. I remember that. But there were a few folks, more than normal for a Thursday I’d think. Um, there were a couple guys that looked like Mexicans and uh, oh hell, I don’t know, just people. Nobody stood out. Just juke box music and folks sitting around the tables. An old guy and woman were in a booth at the back if I recall. I played a couple games of pool. Whipped my buddy’s ass, but we weren’t playing for money or anything. Nobody challenged the table and we left.”
“Was anybody outside, in the parking lot, or on the patio?”
With a face wrinkled in thought, Jason hesitated and said, “You know, I think there was. Yeah. Yeah, a girl and a couple of guys. They were sitting on that ratty old couch.”
“And?” Lester coaxed.
“And nothing. It was pretty dark out there. I didn’t get a good look, didn’t try too hard although I think the girl was having a good time, laughing like she was. I might have tried to put a move on her if I’d been by myself but, as it was, me riding bitch and all…”
“I can see how that would be a problem,” Lester said. “Can you tell me anything at all about what the two men looked like; voices, hair, race?”
“Not really. If I had to guess, I’d say they were young, clean-shaven, and drunk, definitely drunk. Talking kinda loud, that sort of thing. Not that I would know much about that.”
“Is he always this full of shit, Billy Ray?” Lester asked.
The deputy nodded, “Always.”
“So that’s it then? That’s all you can tell me?” Lester felt the sweat building up under his hat. The beer looked mighty good.
“That’s it,” Jason said as he drained the can. “Mind if I get another cold one?”
“No, go ahead,” Lester said, resisting the temptation. “But if you remember anything else, you will call the Sheriff’s office won’t you, Mr. Woods?”
“Of course. Always happy to do my part. But why the questions?”
Billy Ray said, “Remember the runaway girl I mentioned at last Friday’s game? She never did show up. She’s officially missing. The Sheriff thinks something’s happened to her. I have to agree. From what we know, she’s too good a kid to just take off like that and not tell anyone, even her friends. That’s why we need to find out who she was with last Thursday night. Are you absolutely sure you can’t recall anything else about those guys on the couch?”
“Dude, I would if I could.”
“All right. Well thanks for your help. Give me a call when your phone’s working again.”
“You got it. Later.”
Back in the pickup, Lester said. “Not to worry, Billy Ray. Your friend is probably in the clear as to Melissa being gone. His story is easy to check out and I’ll do it if it comes to that, but for now, I’m thinking we need a break, something to go on and run with. Any ideas?”
At the slam of the screen door, both men looked up.
“One other thing,” Jason Woods said. “I just remembered. Out in the parking lot? At the bar? There was this hot looking Mustang, a new one, shiny gray, just like the one Ford uses on their TV ads. Very cool machine. I’d give my left nut for one of those.”
“Thanks bud,” Billy Ray said. “Might be helpful.”
Jason grinned and saluted with his beer. “Get some,” he yelled as the pickup rolled away.
“What was that about?” Lester asked as he pulled onto Main Street.
“What?”
“Get some. What’s that mean?”
Billy Ray grinned. “Probably not what you think. It was an expression we used in Afghanistan. It meant get some Haji’s. Get a body, a kill.”
L
ester shook his head. “I’m too old for this shit.”
Chapter 31
In the darkest corner of the cellar, the serpent, all 61 inches of it, lay semi-coiled and quiet, mostly hidden by the damp leaves. Every few seconds, its tongue flicked through the musty air, collecting particles to be sampled and analyzed with the scent organs in the roof of its mouth. The human was still there, somewhere to its left, the direction known by which side of the forked tongue held the sample. Its belly was full, the rodent buffet lasting for several days. But now, there were new priorities. The urge to lie in the sun and seek warmer places was strong. Soon, it would need a hibernation ground, a south facing slope, preferably with trees. The steps of the cellar would not be a problem, not with its excellent climbing abilities, but that human was instinctively dangerous. The snake had no fangs and no poison but it could easily inflict a nasty bite if threatened. Its normal defense was to freeze, and hope to avoid detection but if spotted, had the ability to vibrate its tail and emit a foul musk if necessary. The snake, hatched from one of eight eggs, was now into its tenth year of life. If it was going to make it to the average age of fifteen, it needed to get past that threat at the base of the stairs. But for the time being, the Rat Snake was content to lie quietly, finish the digestion process of the most recent mouse, and wait for the threat to go away.
*****
It had been a while but Melissa could still remember the show, another one of those survival tales on TV where a man was lost in the jungle with no food or water. What had stuck with her, what had bothered her so much, was when the dying man had killed his faithful dog for food only to find that that his stomach rejected the meat, his state of dehydration so severe that he couldn’t keep it down. The dog had died in vain. What about the snake? If she were to kill it, somehow clean it and eat it, would her stomach toss it back just as the Tequila had done with her last home cooked meal? Even if snake did taste like chicken as she’d heard, just the thought of raw snake meat going down her throat was enough to make her gag.
Still sitting on the cot and judging from the shadows, she guessed the time of day as mid-morning. The cellar felt stuffy and was warming by the hour, the heat radiating from the big metal door above. As far as she could tell from her restricted viewpoint, there was nothing but blue sky outside; no clouds, no hint of rain, no chance for a drink.
Okay Lissa. Don’t just sit here and cry and die. Off your butt, girl! Move it!
She swung off the cot and stood, surprised when her legs wobbled a little. She hesitated before taking a step, unsure of her balance and ability to walk but the weak-kneed sensation passed.
“Admit it, Lissa, you’re getting weaker. You’re losing the battle. The clock is running out little girl, and you’re gonna have do things you don’t want to do if you’re gonna make it through this. Now suck it up.”
Slowly, cautiously, like walking on glass, she made her way toward the back of the cellar, a baby-step at a time, to the darkest part of the man-made cave. She held her aluminum tube at the ready in case the snake made a move, but this wasn’t the time to kill it, not yet, not unless she had to protect herself. First she needed to figure out a way to skin the thing and clean the guts out, assuming of course she had the gumption within her to find it and kill it first. Of course there was the possibility it may have crawled out during the night, slithered right past her while she slept, up the stairs and out the crack, long gone. Melissa had mixed feelings about that theory. No snake to worry about while she slept… but no food either.
Returning to the shelf where she’d found the jar and candle, she ran her hand across the surface, feeling, straining to see. Thoughts of hairy spiders scampered though her head, but she felt only dirt and slime from patches of mold. She didn’t like the way her bare feet were covered in ankle deep leaves, so vulnerable to any creatures lying beneath. She couldn’t stay here long, not with the possibility of that slithery thing lying somewhere close. Fighting the growing panic, she made one more pass and this time, her fingertips touched something different. On the far end of the board was a nail, driven into the edge, probably the same nail that once hosted the now-lost-forever, rain poncho. She wiggled the head of it. The nail didn’t move but the board did. The shelf was loose. Melissa lifted the near edge, hesitant, feeling the weight of it. Having never been affixed to the wall brackets that supported it, the single board easily came free. She turned and did the quick step back to the stairs and the light, carrying her discovery with her.
As she flipped the board over, a brown spider with spindly legs and about the size of her little fingernail, made a jump for safety. Melissa made an “eek” noise and dropped the board wishing she had shoes to stomp it. She gave the spider time to move on and then examined the shelf. It looked to be about 4 inches in width and at least 5 feet long. Having spent so many years in such a dank environment, the dark wood was in surprisingly decent shape with only the corners showing signs of rot. Cedar? She had no idea. The concern was that the nail would hold tight for what she had in mind, skinning a snake. One problem solved, maybe two. The board had some heft to it. A weapon? Awkward, sure, but this was no place to be choosy. As she had done with the aluminum tubing, she stood and tried to swing the board like baseball bat. But the board was slimy and with her small hands, hard to get a grip. The length was a problem as well. She sat back on the cot and tried to think about it, turning the board over and over, hoping for an idea. Concentration was almost impossible, her brain seemingly unable to get past thoughts of water and food. But then; Got it!
Standing, and with her right hand over the end of the board and her left hand on one side to steady it, she raised it as high as she could reach, almost to the ceiling, and struck downward, edgewise, straight down, hard, like a pile driver on pavement. There was a satisfying thunk.
Out loud she said, “Oh yeah, that should do it. You, Mr. Snake, are in big trouble. Melissa the Snake Slayer, that’s me. I’m bad! Yes, I am!”
But to herself—bold statement Lissa. So why does your voice sound so shaky? Is it because you know how close you’ll need to be to use this stupid board? What makes you think you can whack this thing before it gets to you first? Comes down to it, you don’t know if you can actually do this do you? Hell no you don’t. Shit. Sorry Jesus. Didn’t mean to say that. But you know what? I’m probably going to say it again before I get out of here, maybe worse, so you’re just gonna have to deal with it okay? I’ll make it up to you later. But I could use a little more help here you know.
She took a breath, blew some air, and collapsed on the cot. Closing her eyes, she tried to see it like a You Tube video, scene by scene. First, kill the snake. Hang it from the nail, impale it through the head like she’d seen her daddy do, and then what? You’ll have to take the skin off, peel it down, but how? She had no knife to make the critical cut behind the head. Picking up the aluminum tube, she ran her finger over the broken and ragged end. There was a sharpness to it, enough to make a scratch, but thin enough to slice the outer skin and expose the meat? Maybe, but doubtful.
Okay, lets suppose you get that far, Lissa. How you gonna cook it? You got two matches left. Use those and your nights are dark again. Wait minute, what are you thinking girl? If you die of starvation, it doesn’t matter how dark it is does it? No, we’re talking about dark forever, eternal dark, dead dark. Eat it raw? Oh God, no way. No possible way. Unless…I’m dying. No, forget it. You haven’t eaten for four days but people can live a lot longer than that without food. Weeks, a month maybe. You don’t have to eat that snake Lissa, not now anyway.
With that realization, Melissa gave a sigh of relief. Starvation wasn’t the most pressing problem, not like the water situation. And there was that matter of sharing close quarters with a snake. Maybe it was poisonous, maybe it wasn’t. Find it, kill it, or leave it be? Her brain struggled to process and edit her mental video to any kind of conclusion, much less a logical one. It was too complicated to deal with, too many unknowns, too many problems. She c
losed her eyes and tried to think of better times, being out with her friends, playing with her cat, graduating from high school and going to college. Lately she’d begun thinking of becoming a veterinarian. She could specialize in cats and dogs. She’d never owned a dog. Albert wouldn’t allow it. She tried very hard not to think about her cracked lips, a sandpaper tongue, and a mouth that felt like a dried up waterhole.
Chapter 32
The dog pricked his ears at the sound of the phone but that was about the extent of it. Harley opened one eye, closed it, and went back to sleep. Lester picked up.
“Nelda? Why are you calling me in the middle of the night again?”
“It’s ten after seven, Sheriff. If you look outside, you’ll see that it’s not the middle of the night. That light you see in the east is the sun about to make an appearance. I’m the one been on duty all night while you’ve been sleeping your life away.”
Lester swung his feet to the floor and scratched his head. “Is there something you want to tell me Nelda, or did you just get lonesome and want to hear the sound of my voice?”
“No, I’m not lonesome, not for you anyway, you old coot. Now listen. Remember how you told me to call that hospital in Oklahoma City every day, the one where that Sanchez boy is at?”
“I do recall that. And?”
“The boy regained consciousness early yesterday evening and is talking this morning. A nurse said it was like somebody threw a switch and the lights came on. He’s already out of ICU. Looks like he’s gonna be okay they said.”
“Oh, that is great news Nelda. Maybe, finally, we can hope for some good information on Melissa. Okay, I’m headed down there. Hope the doc will let me talk to him. All I need is a few minutes.”
“I surely pray that he can you help find that girl, Sheriff. You know, come to think of it, Imogene didn’t check in with me last night. Wonder if she’s all right? Poor woman. I feel so sorry for her. I’ll give her a call before I go home.”
Fraidy Hole: A Sheriff Lester P. Morrison Novel Page 24
